Rule of Two (20 page)

Bane would be pleased. This was true power: to twist another to your purpose, yet have him believe he was in control. Kel was her puppet, but his pride and ego had blinded him to the strings she used to make him dance.

“We stand on the precipice of a momentous event,” he continued. “In three days we will strike a great blow against the tyrants of the Republic, the first step in our long and glorious march to independence and true freedom!”

A spontaneous cheer of assent rose up from the room, and Zannah knew Kel had won them over. Only Paak and Cyndra showed any signs of reluctance, but as the rest of the group began working on the details of the plan to capture Chancellor Valorum, even they set aside their hesitations.

The meeting lasted long into the night, and when it
was over she and Kel went back to the small apartment she had rented as part of her cover story.

“You were magnificent tonight,” she breathed.

“This is the last time I can see you until all this is over,” Kel warned. “The others are counting on me. I can’t have any distractions.”

As an answer she reached out and grabbed his wrist, then pulled him close in a tight embrace.

He left the next morning. Zannah kissed him goodbye and went back to sleep. Later, she rolled out of bed and began to gather her things. Her mission here was over; she knew she would never see Kel alive again. It was time to return to Ambria.

The camp was in ruins. The tents were leveled, their canopies shredded and torn. Wooden supply crates had been smashed into sawdust and splinters, their contents tossed and scattered on the wind. Hundred-kilogram fuel cells lay strewn about the campsite, some thrown fifty meters from where they had been stored.

The ground was littered with debris and marred by dozens of still-smoldering black scorch marks Zannah recognized as the remnants of a terrible storm of unnatural lightning. The air still crackled with the power and energy of the dark side that made her tingle in fear and anticipation.

It was easy enough to guess what had happened. Bane had failed yet again in his attempt to create a Holocron, then in a blind rage lashed out at the world around him with all the power of the Force.

If she had been here when it happened, Zannah wondered, could she have stopped him? Would she even have been able to survive?

She saw Bane seated on the far side of the camp, his back to her as he stared out to the horizon, meditating on his failure. He turned to face her as she approached,
rising up to his full two-meter height so that he towered above her. His clothes had been torn and burned away, revealing the full scope of the orbalisk infestation. Hundreds of the creatures clung to him; except for his face and hands, his body was now completely covered. He looked as if he were wearing a suit of armor fashioned from the hard, oblong shells of dead crustaceans. Yet she knew that beneath the shells, the parasites were still alive, feeding on him.

Bane claimed the orbalisks enhanced his power, granting him unnatural strength and healing abilities. Yet witnessing the aftermath of his failure with the Holocron, Zannah wondered at what cost those abilities came. What use was greater power if it could not be controlled?

To her relief the fury seemed to have passed, and Zannah knew better than to ask him about it. Instead she offered news of her mission.

“It’s done. When Chancellor Valorum’s shuttle lands, Kel and his followers will be waiting for him.”

“You have done well,” Bane answered.

As always, she felt a surge of pride and accomplishment at her Master’s praise. But her satisfaction was tempered by memories of Kel, and the knowledge that he was lost to her forever.

“Is there any chance they will succeed?” she asked.

“No,” Bane said after a moment’s consideration.

“Then what purpose do they serve?” she demanded, finally giving in to her frustration. “I don’t understand why you send me on missions like this! Why waste all this time and effort if we know they’re going to fail!”

“They don’t need to succeed to be of value to us,” Bane answered. “The separatists are only a distraction. They draw the attention of the Senate, and blind the eyes of the Jedi Council.”

“Blind them?”

“The Jedi have surrendered themselves to the will of the Senate. They have let themselves sink into the morass of politics and bureaucracy. The Republic seeks a single, unified government to maintain peace throughout the galaxy, and the Jedi have been reduced to nothing more than a tool to make it happen.

“Each time radicals strike against the Republic, the Jedi Council is called upon to take action. Resources are wasted on quelling rebellions and uprisings, keeping their focus away from us.”

“But why must the separatists always fail?” Zannah asked. “We could help them succeed without risking exposure!”

“If they succeed, they will gain support,” Bane explained. “Their power and influence will grow. They will become harder to manipulate and control. It is possible they might even become strong enough to bring down the Republic itself.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Zannah asked.

“The Republic keeps the Jedi in check. It maintains control and imposes order across thousands of worlds. But if the Republic falls, a score of new interstellar governments and galactic organizations will rise. It is far easier to manipulate and control a single enemy than twenty.

“That is why we must seek out radical separatist groups, identify the ones that have the potential to become true threats, then encourage them to strike before they are ready. We must exploit them, playing them off against the Republic. We must let our enemies weaken one another while we stay hidden and grow strong.

“One day the Republic will fall and the Jedi will be wiped out,” he assured her. “But it will not happen until we are ready to seize that power for ourselves.”

Zannah nodded, though her mind was reeling as she tried to comprehend the true complexity of her Master’s
intricate and convoluted political machinations. She thought back to all her past missions, trying to see how each one played a part in his plans.

“You have never questioned your missions before,” Bane noted. He didn’t sound angry, but rather curious.

She didn’t want to tell him about Kel. Even though she had accomplished everything Bane had demanded of her, she knew he would view her feelings for the Twi’lek as a sign of weakness.

“Even if I didn’t understand the purpose behind my missions, I never had reason to doubt your wisdom, Master,” she answered, realizing she could turn his question to her advantage.

“Yet you doubt me now?”

She took a long, slow look around, letting her eyes linger over the wreckage of the camp surrounding them.

“I’ve never seen you lose control of your power like this before,” she whispered, shrouding her deceit in a kernel of truth. “I feared the orbalisks could be impairing your judgment. I feared they might have finally driven you mad.”

Bane didn’t answer right away, and when he did his voice was short and gruff. “I control the orbalisks. They do not control me.”

“Of course, Master,” she apologized. But she knew from his reaction that she had successfully planted the seed of doubt. Attempting to manipulate her Master was a dangerous game, but it was a risk she had to take. If the orbalisks drove him into another rage, he might kill her. Convincing Bane to seek out some way to rid himself of the infestation was a matter of self-preservation.

“Clean up the camp,” Bane commanded. “Then head back to Serenno. We need more supplies.”

She acquiesced with a bow and began gathering up debris as Bane resumed his meditations. As she slowly restored some semblance of order to their camp, Zanbah
began to see that the doubts she had planted in Bane’s mind could have one other valuable, long-term benefit.

It was inevitable she would one day challenge him for the title of Sith Master, but Bane was incredibly strong—both physically and in the Force. Encased in a suit of living armor that augmented his powers and protected him from virtually all known weapons, he was nearly invincible.

Convincing Bane to shed his orbalisk coat, Zannah realized, might be the only real hope she had of defeating him and achieving her destiny.

12

J
ohun shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position and thinking how much easier it had been to bear the burden of starship travel in his youth. But he was no longer a teenager on the cusp of manhood. He was taller, for one thing—a full 1.85 meters in height. And his slight frame had become corded with taut, wiry muscle. The only remnant of the young man he had been was the blond hair that still hung down to his shoulders—a sharp contrast with the scruffy black beard that covered the line of his jaw.

He shifted again and glared pointedly at Tarsus Valorum, resting easily in the seat across from him. The Chancellor was in his sixties now, though apart from a slight graying of his hair around the temples he looked very much as he had the first day Johun had met him. Tarsus met the Jedi’s fierce gaze with a smile and a shrug … the closest thing Johun would ever get to an apology for having to endure the long interstellar flight aboard this second-rate vessel.

The
New Dawn
was an
Emissary
-class shuttle—serviceable, but far from luxurious. It would have been a simple matter for Tarsus Valorum, former Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, to request a more extravagant ship for his personal use: one of the new Cygnus
Theta
-class shuttles, or possibly even the magnificent Consular space cruisers so popular among the
diplomatic community. Given his previous position, there was little doubt the Senate would have approved the funds for the purchase. But Valorum had insisted that the tiny
New Dawn
, with her two-person crew, passenger seating for six, and Class Six hyperdrive, was more than adequate for his needs now that he had officially stepped down from his position.

It was a small gesture of modesty and practicality that spoke volumes about the man himself. Over the years Johun had observed the Chancellor in public and in private, and the more he got to know him the more respect he had for him. But that wasn’t to say the man couldn’t be stubborn and even obstinate, as he’d proved when he refused the Senate’s offer of an honor guard accompaniment for his diplomatic missions.

A retired politician is no threat to anybody
, he’d argued.
And I’m certainly not important enough anymore for others to put themselves in harm’s way for my sake
.

Johun still traveled at his side, but that was by his choice, not the Chancellor’s. He knew how valuable Valorum remained to the Republic, and he knew there were enemies who would do him harm if given the chance. He had tried several times to convince Tarsus to travel with more security, with no success. So until his stubborn friend agreed to a personal guard detail, Johun was determined to accompany him on every mission.

“I hope we get there soon,” Johun muttered, giving voice to his discomfort.

“You could always enter one of your meditative trances to pass the time,” the Chancellor said jokingly. “You’re not one for idle conversation anyway.”

Tarsus only permitted Johun to accompany him because of the long-standing relationship between them. The Jedi had been a member of the Chancellor’s Guard through most of Valorum’s first four-year term and the entirety of the second. Now his official position was Jedi
adviser, though Johun would never presume to “advise” the Chancellor about anything.

Tarsus Valorum was known throughout the galaxy as the man who saved the Republic. Spearheading the Ruusan Reformations through the Senate, he had ushered in a new age of peace, prosperity, and expansion. Yet it wasn’t what he had accomplished that made him a great man in Johun’s eyes; it was how he had done it.

Serving at the Chancellor’s side, the Jedi had seen the true power of words and ideas. Tarsus Valorum was a man of deep conviction—that rare breed of politician who truly believed his own words. Determined to create a Golden Age for the citizens of the galaxy, he had pursued with tireless vigor his dream of a reborn and reunited Republic. Hundreds of worlds that had fallen away during the last few centuries of war and galactic turmoil were brought back into the Republic fold during his reign. And when his term of service ended and the time came for him to pass his position over to his successor, he made sure everything was in place for her to continue his work.

Most amazingly, the great reunification had been accomplished with a minimum of bloodshed and battles. Relying on ambassadors and treaties, he had accomplished what could never be done through armies and war.
To win a world, you must win the hearts and minds of its people
, the Chancellor had once explained, shortly after Johun had been assigned to him. Now, after a decade of witnessing all Valorum had achieved, he knew truer words had never been spoken.

“Estimated arrival in five minutes,” the voice of the pilot crackled over the shipboard intercom. “Prepare for landing.”

Johun gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, and the Chancellor chuckled softly. It was a familiar routine to both men. Even though he was retired, Tarsus was not a
man to simply step aside from the realm of politics. He remained a vigorous advocate for the Republic. In the two years since his term of office had ended, Johun had accompanied him on over fifty personal diplomatic missions … like the one they were on now.

The planet of Serenno was an important world to the Republic. The ruling noble families were among the wealthiest individuals in the galaxy. In addition to donating enormous sums to highly visible charitable and political organizations, they had the financial capital to help underwrite massive government infrastructure projects.

More important, their vast resources also enabled them to fund groups that were opposed to the Republic, should they so choose. Separatist factions often sought out wealthy benefactors in Carannia, Saffia, and Fiyarro, Serenno’s three largest cities.